


A Reunifying Arrangement

by 1478963255



Series: Partake of my Lover [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Love, M/M, Partner Swapping, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reunion Sex, Reunions, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Swingers, Threesome - M/M/M, True Love, Unbeta'd we die like Glenn, Voyeurism, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1478963255/pseuds/1478963255
Summary: Dedue is alive. Dimitri is hopelessly in love and beyond happy that his best friend and lover has returned following the battle at the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Hubert simply wants to see the newly reunited prince and vassal roughly fuck his own lover, Ferdinand.M/M threesome/ foursome. Cuckolding, voyeurism, rough sex, partner swapping, true love.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Ferdinand von Aegir/Dedue Molinaro, Ferdinand von Aegir/Dedue Molinaro/ Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Ferdinand von Aegir/Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: Partake of my Lover [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1469147
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91





	1. Reunite

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, it's been a while since _this_ series has been updated but I feel like I should. I don't know if my writing style has improved or worsened since 'Enlightenment' and 'Desideratum' - they were such big pieces I feel like I need to get back up to the same standard!
> 
> Regardless, I wanted to continue this again. I struggled to think how Dedue would even be able to join Ferdie and Hubie in the bedroom without Dimitri's involvement and so of course, Dimitri had to join again. I'm still trying to work out how to get Dedue to fuck Ferdinand since he is so devoted to Dimitri but I think I'll get there.
> 
> Canon divergent where everyone is on the same side, all against Edelgard. She's on her own cause she's gone nuts. Also, no-one died at the Battle of Myrddin - not even Rodrigue. Don't think Dimitri would wanna fuck after his other father figure got murdered before him.
> 
> No sex in this chapter, but lots of dirty talk and teasing and _feelings_.

When Dedue returned, Hubert himself was astonished.

He did not think he was alive. How could he have been? He was executed by Cornelia’s men after rescuing Dimitri from the very same fate. Word spread like wildfire across the land that the cruel sorceress had goaded, taunted and tortured Dedue mercilessly until he was killed. But he never showed a sliver of weakness.

When Dedue returned, Hubert remembered the expression on the professor’s face.

Usually stoic, unreadable, and downright emotionless, even his eyebrows raised at the sight of Dimitri’s bulwark charging through soldiers as if they were nothing, battering them aside with the sheer size of his body and shield. His face was contorted with rage, dark skin drawn back to reveal flashing red gums and teeth bared like a ferocious animal. Byleth was equally as surprised, eyes widening, faltering in his attack for just a moment before cutting down the mage before him with his Creator’s Sword.

When Dedue returned, Hubert saw the look on Dimitri’s face.

He would not forget it.

An amalgamation of shock, love, horror, relief – everything, merged clumsily and messily into one. Hubert could count and pinpoint every emotion that flickered across the haunted prince’s face by a fraction of a second. His eye widened, shocked initially, and then his brow fell as his heart swelled with love upon realising his best friend -his _everything_ \- had not died. Then as quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced with blood-curdling fear, petrified that Dedue was nothing more than a ghost, a physical apparition to haunt him during one of his most fierce battles so far, to distract him and cause his own death.

But then the man of Duscur spoke, his voice booming and loud, calling out _‘Your Highness!’_ loud and clear across the battlefield so that it vibrated in Hubert’s ears painfully. Dimitri unsheathed his lance from the dead body beneath his feet and charged at Dedue, reaching up with a bloodied gauntlet to cup the other’s face.

Everything on the battlefield seemed to freeze, as if every pair of eyes, friend and foe alike were all focused on the reunion before them. Dedue still towered over the prince despite Dimitri’s impressive height. Dimitri was trembling.

“Dedue… you’re alive… how?!”

Dedue smiled down at his prince -no, his _king_ \- and placed a gentle hand atop Dimitri’s bloody gauntlet. He didn’t seem to care that scarlet stained his cheek – he was already marked with silver scars, bruises and cuts. His voice now was gentler, and if it were not for the echo of the valley the bridge sat upon, his words would have been reserved just for Dimitri.

“We can discuss it later. For now, allow me to join your forces.”

Dimitri’s voice quivered. “… y-yes.”

\----

The return to the monastery after reclaiming the bridge was cheerful and full of so much merriment Hubert had not experienced something akin to it in years, since… well, in fact, since _ever_. Ferdinand clung to his arm, auburn hair knotted, tangled and matted with blood, dragging his lance against the ground when they entered under the high archway of Garreg Mach’s grounds. Ferdinand didn’t seem to care for the grating scraping noise his lance made against the stone. Neither did Hubert. Nor did anyone. Everyone made it out alive. _Everyone. Not a single casualty._

Claude and his Leicester forces offered to take hold of the bridge following their victory. Judith, Leonie and Lorenz remained at the bridge with their leader to arrange protection and further deterrents in case Edelgard struck again. Dimitri, Rodrigue, Gilbert and Byleth had discussed the logistics of it all as Hubert busied himself temporarily with running his gloved hands through Ferdinand’s long hair, hoping to untangle some of the matted knots that had formed. He breathed in his scent; it was thick and bloody, metallic and nothing at all like Ferdinand.

“You need to bathe immediately,” Hubert mused, nosing into the back of Ferdinand’s hair, coming closer to his ear. The cavalier laughed quietly and tilted his head so that he could speak over his shoulder.

“Truly? I am that repugnant? Do I smell so awfully?”

“You do not smell like _you_ ,” Hubert said, kissing at Ferdinand’s high cheekbone swiftly, hoping that no wandering eyes caught his public display of affection. “Regardless, I cannot comb through your hair with so much blood in it.”

“Mmh, I would very much like that. I will bathe… as long as you join me,” Ferdinand whispered shooting a wink at Hubert from over his shoulder the dark mage shook his head.

“Incorrigible,” he breathed in return, sweeping some hair away from Ferdinand’s forehead to kiss at his high brow, sticky with spatters of black blood. Hubert turned to face the rest of the company; they were all battered, some more than others, but everyone was alive.

Felix was grumbling and frowning -as he always did- as Sylvain hoisted his arm over his shoulder and helped to carry him up the staircase to the monastery, to the infirmary where Manuela was waiting for them. Annette was kneeling beside Ingrid, hands aglow over the Valkyrie’s knee. Mercedes was smiling and speaking with the blonde-haired girl and just behind them Ashe and Caspar were chatting animatedly, and it looked like Caspar was re-enacting some of his moves from the battlefield.

Surprisingly, other old classmates had joined them at the bridge too. Hubert surmised it was likely due to Claude’s scheming nature, pre-emptively sending owls with messages to those who he knew would answer. Lorenz charged from a hideout atop a stunning white horse, cleaving through Edelgard’s forces without so much as blinking, lavender hair flowing behind him like a ribbon in the wind. When Hubert turned his head during the battle just a little further, he heard a shrill cry and caught sight of Hilda swinging her axe, which was twice as big as her tiny frame, fending off two enemies at the same time.

It felt… comforting, to have so many people back at the monastery. It reminded him of when he was a student but… better. When he was a student at the monastery, he remained at Edelgard’s side and never strayed, looking upon the other students with boiling envy, wishing that he could join them, but never wanting to desert his Empress.

 _Former_ Empress.

Perhaps now, without her shadow looming over him, he might be able to enjoy the presence of others.

“Hubert?”

Ferdinand was blinking up at him with big doe-like eyes, head tilted just slightly with curiosity. “Ah, my apologies. I was reminiscing.”

Ferdinand laughed, quirking one eyebrow. “ _You?_ My, you didn’t hit your head during the battle, did you?” He raised a bloodied glove to press the back of it against Hubert’s forehead and the mage leaned away from his touch playfully, lowering his lover’s gentle hand.

“No, nothing of the sort.” Hubert took Ferinand’s hand in his and smiled gently down at the other. How lucky he was, not only to have someone so kind, and so brave, but to have him _still alive_. He gave the other’s hand a tight squeeze. “I am glad you are still alive.”

“I am also glad that I am alive,” Ferdinand joked then resumed a more honest expression. “I am glad you are too. Thank you for protecting me.”

“You also protected me. I would be nothing without you.”

“You _must have_ hit your head, Hubert… you have lost your inhibitions,” Ferdinand laughed openly and loudly, taking Hubert’s hand in his and guiding him towards the rising staircase of Garreg Mach’s entrance. The others began to follow, weary and bloodied from battle. The doors swung open and golden candlelight spilt out to welcome the party back.

Seteth and his sister, Flayn, rushed out, straight towards the professor, who welcomed the smaller girl into his waiting arms. A smile even graced his features when he embraced her. Nuns, priests, guards and young soldiers also flooded out, greeting the party, cheering brightly. Hubert even caught the call of his own name a few times and felt his chest swell. He was being… _welcomed_. How strange of a feeling it was, though not unwelcome. He attempted to smile back at those who greeted him, trying to mimic Ferdinand’s gracious thanks, elegant and practised waving and a bright smile. It did not work as well.

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the entryway stood Dedue and Dimitri. One would have to lean and look between hanging flags and pillars to spy the reunified pair. They stood close to one another, barely more than foot between them, the prince gazing up with wonder at his shield. Hubert and Ferdinand stopped to watch the pair.

They spoke too softly to hear, but Hubert could see Dimitri’s lone blue eye quivering in its socket. His entire frame before the Duscur man appeared so insignificant and small, though mere weeks prior to Dedue’s return he skulked about the monastery like a haunted shadow, like a hulking untameable beast. Dedue’s mere presence was enough to reduce Dimitri to a shaking mess.

Hubert saw Dedue’s hand flex and twitch at his side, opening and closing as if he made to move forward, but was stopping himself. Finally, he took a breath and raised his twitching hand to take a hold of Dimitri’s. Their eyes locked and Dedue spoke softly, as if he were taking an oath to the prince and all breath seemed to leave the blonde-haired man. He looked… relieved but so weakened at the same time.

The mage hummed.

“It is nice to see Dedue return, isn’t it?” Ferdinand said beside him, simultaneously watching though perhaps not with the same intent and analytical gaze as Hubert. The prince held onto Dedue’s hand tightly and refused to let go.

“It is. He will be a valuable asset in the coming battles.”

“Oh, come Hubert, he is _more_ than that. He is Dimitri’s shield, his protector, his _best friend_. Perhaps the prince will change more with his return.”

Hubert hummed once more. “I am… unsure. Perhaps. Time will tell. I do not expect the prince to change overnight.”

Silence fell between Hubert and Ferdinand as they continued to watch the pair. Dimitri’s head fell and he looked at the floor dejectedly between the two of them and Dedue said nothing, simply stared at the messy crown of filthy blonde hair, coated with weeks’ worth of grime, dirt, and blood, both old and new. Finally, the taller man tipped his head forward, his eyes slid shut, and he kissed the top of Dimitri’s head.

“Were… pardon, _are_ … Dimitri and Dedue courting?” Ferdinand asked.

“… I believe so.” Hubert paused. “The last time we were intimate with Dimitri, I mentioned Dedue’s name in passing and he reacted very brashly. He was angered that I dare even say his name.”

Ferdinand considered Hubert’s words carefully. “Do you think they will resume their relationship?”

“I am unsure. Dimitri has shown very little kindness to others so far but… perhaps Dedue will bring back the prince we once knew.”

“Maybe he will fix him. Strengthen him.”

Hubert turned to look at Ferdinand, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. “Ever optimistic, aren’t you, my lily?”

Ferdinand’s cheeks flared scarlet and his hair whipped when he turned to face Hubert. He tried to sputter out a retort but instead just stuttered uncontrollably, turning a shade of red so bright it almost rivalled his hair. Hubert’s lips quirked a little further upwards until he took to guide Ferdinand through the dining hall, where a grand feast awaited them and the rest of the party. Everyone filed in, taking tankards of ale, flutes of wine, and tall decanters of crystal-clear water, settling at the seats of the long table.

The former Black Eagle men sat beside one another, dining on roasted vegetables, succulent meats, honeyed fruits and sugared desserts, all prepared without abandon by the talented chefs of Garreg Mach. The food felt good sliding down their throats, alcohol tickling palates that had almost gone stale. Ferdinand’s cheeks were quick to flush, his actions becoming uninhibited as he drank more and more as the night wore on. Hubert was careful to sip his own wine, still on his first glass of the night. He lost track of how many Ferdinand had drunk.

He cast his gaze around the room and caught sight of Dimitri once more, tucked away neatly into the crook of Dedue’s arm. His cheeks were as red as Ferdinand’s and Dedue was as sober as him. The prince leaned on his shield without care for what others thought – not that anyone was looking, many were drunk beyond care. If Edelgard attacked them that very night, it would have been an easy slaughter.

Dedue's smile was gentle, his eyes soft with adoration and Hubert watched the bulwark lean in a little closer to Dimitri and nose into his hair. He couldn’t imagine it smelled pleasant; he hadn’t bathed in weeks, only doing so at the professor’s request (well, it was more of an order than a request). Perhaps having Dedue back would encourage the prince to bathe more often. Perhaps Dedue _could_ help the prince.

Perhaps Dedue could help _him_.

Hubert could resist any longer. He convinced himself that it was the wine that was making his own mind spin stories and cultivate indecent images of Dedue bathing Dimitri in the bathhouse, the contrast of dark skin upon Dimitri’s scarred pale back reminding him of when they had been intimate with Claude.

They were not of the same ancestry and yet, the thought of dark skin upon white made Hubert positively preen. He had been conditioned to think erotically of it, having seen Claude’s hands upon Ferdinand’s pliant body too many times to count. He could not help but imagine how Dimitri would react to Dedue scrubbing at his back. Would he lean into it? Lean away? What sort of noises would he make?

He thought back to how animalistic Dimitri had been that night when he had taken Ferdinand. It was the first time he had ever been inside another man. Dedue had always been the one to take _him_. But Hubert could clearly remember the grit of his sharp teeth, the furrow of his brow, the way the sweat rolled in rivulets down his hardened hulking boy which loomed over Ferdinand, powerful and unrelenting, unforgiving in his fucking. Ferdinand had been considerably sore, more so than usual, the following morning.

If that was Dimitri at his most brutal, Hubert could not help but wonder how Dedue made him feel. Were they gentle together in bed? Or did Dedue have to plant a hand on Dimitri’s throat, to keep him in place, to tame the beast?

He couldn’t help but imagine Dedue firm hand pressed against _Ferdinand’s_ throat too.

 _Hmm, now that was a thought._ To imagine the gentle giant of Duscur, the faithful retainer, servant and shield of the prince of Fearghus, fucking into his lover. In his alcoholic haze, Hubert imagined Dedue’s body, strong like an ox, dark but striped like an exotic wild cat with silvery scars, looming over Ferdinand in their shared bed, hand across his supple throat, legs raised up and over Dedue’s bulging shoulders, his grip firm and strong but gentle. He envisioned the way Ferdinand’s eyes would widen at the thrust of Dedue’s thick dark cock – surely, he was well endowed. A man of his size just _had_ to be, and imagining Ferdinand taking something so large made his own cock stir in his trousers.

Breaking from his stupor, Hubert blinked a few times and drew his wine flute back to his lips, taking another tentative sip. Ferdinand was practically leaning on him now, heavy and far too touchy for his liking; his palm was dancing up his thighs, his face rubbing into Hubert’s chest and beneath his jaw. He cleared his throat.

“I do believe it is time for that bath, hmm?” Hubert prompted, leaning to whisper into Ferdinand’s ear. The cavalier groaned and turned up to the dark mage, sporting his best puppy-eyed expression.

“Already? But we were just getting started! Caspar said he would fight Felix! It will be a sight to behold; to have Caspar handed a defeat so quickly,” Ferdinand laughed, tossing his head backwards and Hubert shook his head, smiling to himself. He could not deny it would be a sight to see.

“I believe you have had a little too much to drink, my lily. You and Lord Dimitri certainly do not handle your alcohol very well,” Hubert said, gesturing with his eyes towards Dimitri who was now hung forward over the table into his own folded arms, Dedue’s gentle hand soothing at his back in circles. He stabbed at a piece of meat and brought it to his lips, chewing silently and contentedly as he watched Caspar and Felix bicker across the table, with Sylvain snickering and Ingrid scolding.

Ferdinand’s drunken gaze swung towards the inebriated prince and locked his eyes with Dedue. The gentle man smiled and swallowed down his pork. The cavalier flashed his most dazzling smile, tongue pressing up against the back of his teeth to broaden his grin. Hubert leaned close and nosed against his ear.

“Tell me… what do you think of Dedue?” he ventured.

“Oh! Well, he certainly is strong! Did you not see the way he dispatched at least half a dozen men all heading for Lord Dimitri? The way his axe cut through them was gruesome, horrible even, but… something to behold. I suppose you could also say that he is loyal to a fault—”

“No, Ferdinand, I mean… what do you _think_ of Dedue?” Hubert’s voice dropped an octave, pitching lower than usual, husky and dark. Ferdinand froze in his seat, eyes going wide though they were still locked with Dedue’s from across and down the table. He swallowed and Hubert could see the bob of his Adam’s apple as his voice tickled Ferdinand’s ear.

“W-Well, I have… n-not given it much thought before… it is his first night back after all… a-and he is _with_ Lord Dimitri and so… I…” Ferdinand fanned at himself with his gloved hand, suddenly far hotter than before, tugging at his cravat and trying to sweep his hair over his shoulder. Dedue watched the pair curiously as Hubert nosed further into Ferdinand’s golden tresses, teeth nipping at the shell of his ear.

“Come, tell me of your first impressions then.”

“I… I am truly unsure… I do not know what to think.”

“Then perhaps think of the way his large, rough hands might feel wrapped around your throat, choking every last breath out of your beautiful body.”

The cavalier bristled, fiery goosebumps igniting beneath his uniform and dancing down his flesh. He swallowed hard.

“That… s-seems—”

“Or imagine him pinning you face-first into the bed with naught but a single hand, body bent in half with your ass up in the air, presenting for him just how much of an _open slut_ you are for anyone.”

“ _H-Hubert—”_

“And the weight of his cock against your tongue, thick and heavy. How would he taste, do you think? As spicy as his cooking? Or something headier, more invasive, like sweat and musk, something which you _love_.” Hubert chuckled darkly. “You would swallow every drop of his cum like the _filthy whore that you are_ , wouldn’t you?”

Ferdinand trembled violently and the hand he had placed on Hubert’s thigh was now gripping painfully hard. His face was straight, eyes wide as Hubert whispered obscenities into his ear, stomach tightening, face burning, cock stirring. He kept his gaze locked with Dedue as best he could, imagining all the filthy things Hubert murmured into his ear.

“Perhaps we should,” the mage breathed, flicking his tongue around the inside of Ferdinand’s ear, “invite Dedue to join us.”

Whimpering and finally blinking, breaking the spell Hubert had cast, Ferdinand shuddered and nodded, swallowing dryly. His quivering hand reached for his flute of wine and he necked the rest of it. He reached for the bottle and then sighed, shaking his head.

“I… I would v-very much like that.” He turned to look at Hubert. “We must do it. _Soon_.”

Hubert hummed in agreement, resting his hand atop Ferdinand’s wrapped around the bottle. He glanced over at Dedue who was watching both of them with a stony yet curious expression, green eyes darting between the both of them. He was confused by Ferdinand’s flushed expression and the malicious look upon Hubert’s own face, watching carefully. Dimitri heaved himself up from the table suddenly with a loud groan, practically a roar and he scratched at his own hair, startling the Duscur man. Hubert’s eyes glinted.

“And what if Lord Dimitri were to rejoin us?”

Ferdinand swallowed heavily, breathing becoming laboured. “I would… very much like that t-too.” He still faced Hubert and his hands finally moved, coming to cling at the front of Hubert still-bloodied obsidian black coat. “ _Please_. That bath.”

Nodding and swinging his legs out from the wooden bench, Hubert stood, offering a hand down to Ferdinand. He helped the other man to his feet and Ferdinand swayed, leaning on Hubert for stability though the dark mage quickly leaned in, hissing into his ear.

“Of course. I will make sure to bathe _every inch of you with my tongue tonight.”_

Ferdinand whimpered one more time. Now with permission, all Hubert had to do, was slide the pieces into place to get both Dimitri and his bulwark into the bedroom.


	2. Prompting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert watches Dedue and Dimitri from the shadows, learning how the couple work. Days later, he finally finds Dedue alone and prompts him with a shocking but tempting invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up having the add another chapter at the end for the actual sex scene so, although this chapter is mostly filler, there's lots of fluff and plenty of teasing. Not quite sex, but some very heated moments.

Finding Dimitri and Dedue proved not all too difficult for Hubert.

Finding them _not_ preoccupied, however, was another matter entirely.

And finding one without the other had proved nigh impossible so far.

Hubert lingered in the shadows of the cathedral often, watching, skulking behind Dimitri and his stalwart. They were hardly ever without the other, around one other almost more often than Ferdinand was around Hubert – and _that_ was a statement.

He noticed how… _loving_ , for lack of a better word, they were towards one another.

Hubert slept little, even now, and even when he was tangled in Ferdinand’s warm embrace. He peeled himself away from that love-bitten body in the early hours of the morning, donning his black robes quickly to wander about the cathedral’s grounds and check that all was well. _Old habits die hard_ , he mused to himself countless times, even when the fish in the pond were peaceful, the horses curled up on piles of hay, and the only sounds stirring about the walls of the ancient monastery were those of birds chirruping.

He paced the grounds though one morning found himself before the greenhouse when he heard the sounds of shifting dirt, quirking his ears like a fox after its prey. Peering through the door, he spied a sight not many would believe.

Sunlight streamed in through the dusty panes, in rivulets of gold and green, across the cobbled ground of the greenhouse, across the dirt and emerald leaves of the growing plants. The building had been partially repaired, allowing for the regrowth of beautiful flora and medicinal herbs and clearly, many at the cathedral were grateful for somewhere peaceful to spend their time. The air was musty, thick with heat and earth, but it clearly didn’t bother the man of Duscur knelt beside a large scarlet flower, blooming large and so tall that it towered high over any who stepped foot into the greenhouse, practically twice the size of even the tallest man. The gentle giant was crouched low at the foot of the plant, dressed down in loose black slacks that were dirtied at the knees from shovelling and toiling at the plants, the sleeves of his beige coloured blouse rolled up to his elbows to reveal strong forearms, prickled silver with coarse arm-hair and scars. His hair was pulled back into his high bun, as always, to reveal his face which was strong and firm, his chiselled jawline catching the sun to accentuate the sharp squareness of it. 

Despite the strength of his face, he was still gentle, almost doe-eyed with the way he gazed down at the roots of the plant he tended to. Beside him, was the prince.

He too was dressed down in loose black slacks and a white blouse, in something far more freeing than his heavy obsidian armour which had long shadowed and over-encumbered his already frighteningly strong frame. He looked relieved of his lifelong burden without his armour weighing him down, and with his best-friend and bulwark at his side, he seemed… _at peace._

Probably not entirely. But more so than he had been in years.

The sun was hitting Dimitri’s back so a shadow cast over his face, but Hubert could still see the gentleness in his eyes as his bright blue gaze flickered between Dedue’s working hands and his face. Dimitri wasn’t sure which to focus on, unable to concentrate on one thing or the other for longer than a few seconds. The sunlight hit his golden hair, casting the blonde into a stunning halo of light and were Hubert not a faithful and devoted man, he might have been attracted to the war-haggard prince.

Watching the pair together in the peace of the greenhouse enveloped Hubert in a warmth -which might have been painfully uncomfortable were he still at Edelgard’s side- which reminded him of his own relationship with Ferdinand.

Dedue tugged at the roots of the plant, tearing white bulbs and rotten leaves away and setting them aside in a neat pile. Dimitri watched him diligently, practically glittering in awe with how gentle Dedue was with the plant as if he could not replicate the same gentleness.

From the cracked door of the greenhouse, Hubert watched the pair silently. Dimitri took up a pair of pliers, hands humorously large in comparison to the dainty tool and he took the stem that Dedue extended towards him. The Duscur man’s mouth moved and even though he could not hear, Hubert could imagine the gentle gravel of his deep voice soothing the prince. Dimitri nodded as he listened, clipping away at some leaves and settling them in a separate pile to Dedue’s.

The dark-skinned man raised his hand and swept some of Dimitri’s hair aside, long, messy, blonde bangs falling into the prince’s still haggard face. His large thumb came up to a patch of dirt against Dimitri’s jaw and he rubbed at it, caressing it without too much force as if he wanted to shift the smudge but also touch Dimitri. The prince stared back at Dedue wordlessly.

If not for his hawk-like perception, Hubert might have missed the way Dimitri keened and leaned into Dedue’s touch.

But he saw it.

Dimitri’s head tilted just a fraction into the way Dedue’s large dark palm cupped at his jaw and rubbed at his cheek with his thumb with such care and love it rivalled the way that Hubert touched Ferdinand. The dark mage felt his lips twitch into a smile watching them.

And then Dimitri tipped his head forward just a little and Dedue leaned down to meet him, pressing a long kiss to the prince’s forehead. Hubert turned away and allowed the two men their peace within the greenhouse.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was days later when Hubert found them again, this time under the cover of moonlight instead of a rising dawn.

The clashing and splintering of wood drew him closer to the training grounds than he had gone in years. He never really was a man for sparring with others as physical exertion was not exactly his strongest point. And it made him uncomfortably sweaty.

Looming in the shadows once more -was he ever truly out of them?- Hubert watched the two men spar and battle. If it were not for the wooden lance that was nothing more than a pole, and a pathetically flimsy wooden axe, one might have guessed the two really were fighting, engaged in a vicious battle against one another.

Dimitri’s hair whipped around him like silver-blonde crescents, cascading in the moonlight to only show glimpses of his blazing blue eye, burning bright in its socket. He lunged forward at Dedue with his teeth bared, pulled back into a half-snarl half-grin type of expression, something almost crazed and hungry. He darted about the battlefield with ridiculous speed, perhaps faster than usual without his black armour on him, dressed down in similar clothes to that which Hubert saw him in days prior.

Dedue did his best to stand his ground. His feet were planted into the dirt, spread wide and crouched so that he was stable, wooden axe in one hand and a round wooden shield in the other. It was a mockery of that which he usually wielded; heavy steel, thick and scratched beyond belief, but still without a crack or sign of weakness. Just like its bearer.

Darting through the dirt, Dimitri ducked beneath the swing of Dedue’s axe and Hubert swore he heard the prince laugh. His back arched, his head swooped impossibly low until he arched straight back up with his lance twisted firmly in his bare hands so hard his knuckles were strained white. With an almighty thrust, he lunged forward towards Dedue, as if he were going to stab him directly in his abdomen.

With a sharp gasp, Dedue twisted his body so that the wooden shield took the brunt of the impact. Wood splintered and shattered as the head of Dimitri’s lance smashed through Dedue’s shield, piercing it, and had Dedue not moved, he would have been impaled by the blunt end of the lance.

Under the moon, Dimitri’s single eye was burning, practically vibrating with excited power and energy in its socket, searing straight through Dedue.

It only frightened Hubert _a little._

He had seen Dimitri like this before, countless times upon the battlefield and about the monastery. He was a depraved monster back then, chanting incessantly and swearing upon everything he knew to take Edelgard’s head every moment he was awake. He had been desperate for revenge.

But he had also seen Dimitri at the other end of desperation.

He had seen him twitching and pleading, sweating and gasping with his body dripping with sweat, flushed pink, hips thrusting frantically away like an animal. Hubert had seen Dimitri chasing a far more primal desperation with his hair hanging in his eye but not completely covering his face so he could see the concentration and raw want written _all over it._

He thought he preferred that expression much more.

Twisting his shield in his hand, Dedue threw it away, ripping the lance from Dimitri’s hands. The prince watched as his weapon was torn away from him, leaving him with nothing but his bare hands. For a moment his fingers twitched, confused that they had nothing to hold onto nor twist any longer. Then they flexed tightly and a crazed grin twitched at the corner of his mouth.

That frightened Hubert only _a little more._

The prince threw himself at Dedue, fist flying so quickly through the air Dedue had no time to even think of protecting himself. There was a loud cracking noise and Hubert wasn’t sure if it was Dedue’s jaw or Dimitri's knuckle exploding under the force of the punch. The Duscur man staggered backwards, his right hand instinctively opening, and his wooden axe fell to the floor, useless and forgotten. Dimitri was upon him again, unforgiving and relentless in his assault and if Hubert did not have complete faith in Dedue’s ability to control and calm his prince, he might have stepped in.

But he _did_ believe in Dedue. So he didn’t.

Dimitri’s left fist came flying towards Dedue’s temple and _thank the Goddess_ he was quick enough to see it coming this time. He reached up and clamped his large dark hand around Dimitri’s fist, stopping it mere inches from connecting with his head. If Dimitri had landed it… perhaps Dedue might not have still been standing. _Or breathing._

Dimitri faltered, gritting his teeth hard as he stared at Dedue. The other man’s arm was shaking with the tension as he pushed back on his prince’s arm, muscles in his forearms bulging, veins popping against his copper skin glinting white under the moon. Dimitri continued to push with his fist encapsulated within Dedue’s, practically snarling up at his companion.

Dedue’s face was equally as hard, thin lips pursed so tightly they were invisible, brow drawn down into a furious scowl of determination as he pushed back as hard as he could against Dimitri’s fist. His other hand seemed to twitch to life, and he shot it out to grip at Dimitri’s side, fisting his shirt.

With a heave, Dedue lifted up Dimitri and tossed him into the air, over his shoulder.

Crashing into the dust, clouds billowed up into the air around Dimitri’s form. He lay flat on the ground, wheezing for breath, trying to push himself up but Dedue was upon him, one hand around his throat, the other still holding his clenched fist. Dedue kneeled over Dimitri, his foot planted into the ground in a crouch at Dimitri’s side, the other leg bent at the knee and planted firmly between Dimitri’s legs.

Silence descended like a weighted blanket over the training crowds and Hubert had to blink the dryness out of his eyes. He had been staring.

Dimitri’s chest rose and fell quickly but deeply, Dedue’s matching the slow rhythm. The two stared at one another and under Dedue’s palm, Hubert saw the bob of Dimitri’s throat as he swallowed.

The prince’s spare hand came up slowly, nonthreateningly, to be placed on top of Dedue’s about his throat. He seemed to squeeze against Dedue’s hand and for a moment, the stalwart man faltered.

His eyes slid shut and a huff of breath escaped his broad ox-like nostrils. Then his fingers tightened.

Dimitri gasped again, but tighter this time, suffocated and restricted. His legs twitched against the ground and Hubert could see him draw his lower lip under his top teeth to be dragged. Dedue said nothing and just watched his prince beneath him with a heavy gaze, watching, _watching._

He let go of Dimitri’s fist then and used that same hand to brush his long bangs out of his face. His hair fell about him unwashed and unkempt against the dirt, but it exposed his face. The moon hung so perfectly high in the sky that it eclipsed just over Dedue’s large shoulder and shone on the prince’s face. His cheeks were red -either from exertion or arousal, Hubert wasn’t sure- and his blue eye was no longer bulging and crazed. It was now half-lidded, blinking _so slowly_ , up at Dedue that he might as well have kept it closed.

“Your Highness.”

His voice was low, husky and even Hubert shuddered hearing it. Against the walls of the training grounds, Dedue’s voice echoed and fell upon his ears like honey; smooth and deep. Dimitri did not seem to react.

Dedue spoke again. _“Dimitri.”_

This time, the prince’s eye flickered open and settled on Dedue’s face. The dark hand came and swept the long blonde hair away from Dimitri’s forehead and Dedue stroked there, as if settling the other man. His hand on Dimitri’s throat finally came away and merely shifted upwards to cup the other’s dirtied jaw.

“I apologise.”

Dedue’s lips quirked upwards when he heard Dimitri speak – his voice was hoarse and quiet. “Do not apologise. It was a good punch.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Not too much.”

Seemingly pacified with this answer, Dimitri closed his eye again and sighed full of relief. Hubert watched, mesmerised. He thought that he was a skilled mage, adept with any type of magic he came across, but the spell that Dedue had managed to cast upon the prince was unlike anything he had ever seen before. How the large man had managed to calm such a crazed beast was astonishing… Hubert wasn’t sure if _he_ would be able to complete such a feat. Perhaps it was only capable of Dedue.

Dedue shifted back so that he sat on his haunches, still straddling one of Dimitri’s legs but neither minded. He pulled Dimitri up with one hand holding his, and the other wrapped around the back of his head and neck, supporting the prince. He kept sweeping the hair out of Dimitri’s face and tucking it behind his ears and even Hubert admitted it brought out the handsomeness in the prince’s face.

The deep sleepless circles beneath his eyes had faded considerably and a smile lit up his face more often than a scowl darkened it. His eyebrows were thick, unkempt and brushed about wildly in all sorts of directions but Dedue soothed a thumb over each, brushing them down temporarily. Hubert had never noticed it before. _What a strange thing to notice, actually - eyebrows._ But the more he dwelled upon it, the more he realised how immaculately groomed Ferdinand was in comparison.

His eyebrows were always arched and groomed without a single hair out of place, plucked frequently. He shaved as often as he could to keep the auburn fuzz away, insisting that a beard would distract away from his ‘magnificent jawline’ – not that Hubert would disagree. His hair was almost always freshly washed, brushed and kept in perfect coppery waves that tumbled down his back beautifully and Hubert loved to drown himself in the flowery scent of his lover’s hair.

And then there was Ferdinand’s body. He was pale, stunning under every light; either gold in the sunlight or silver under the moon and Hubert loved to kiss over every inch of his rich skin. He was well-muscled without being overtly so, a hidden strength within his ample forearms. But his _thighs._ Countless times had Hubert thought about being smothered and suffocated between such silky and deceptively strong thighs, thick with muscle and fat in all the right places. 

His cock… the mere _thought_ of it had Hubert’s mouth watering and breeches tightening. It arched upwards so perfectly, so befitting of a noble like Ferdinand, with a red-pink crown at the top, foreskin drawn back to expose the glands that Hubert had no problem swallowing down. He loved it when Ferdinand had recently groomed himself too, auburn pubic hair trimmed down just the right amount where it had started to grow back and was slightly softer and no longer blunt and prickly against his face and chin.

Hubert swallowed. _Gods._ He might have to wake Ferdinand when he returned to their room.

Dedue was still holding onto the back of Dimitri’s head with one hand and the other had come to his face, soothing over his cheekbone. The prince gazed back up at him, his eye still half-lidded and face still flushed pink. His breathing was steadier, but still slow and deep. His hands came up and skimmed up Dedue’s chest quickly, up and over his bulging shoulder to rest on his muscled trapezius.

With a gentle tug, Dimitri pulled Dedue down to meet him.

It almost felt filthy, to watch the two men share a long and gentle kiss in the training grounds under the moonlight. _How ironic,_ Hubert thought. _To feel guilty about watching these two men merely kiss when in days’ time, there would be so much more._

Dedue’s bright green eyes slid shut when his lips met Dimitri’s and he tilted his prince’s head just right so that their noses didn’t bump. His thumb didn’t stop stroking at Dimitri’s cheekbone, drawing back to take a quick breath before kissing the prince again.

Hubert might have thought the Duscur man to be more reserved about kissing his prince, perhaps even asking permission before going forth with something so intimate – he always had been polite to a fault during their academy days. But clearly, such politeness had been long forgotten and replaced with familiarity and comfort as their lips came together over and over in kisses that they had shared plenty of times before.

Dimitri whined and Hubert saw his brow come down. Frustration, perhaps? It must have been, because his mouth opened and his tongue peeked out, seeking out Dedue’s. Hubert saw the dark hand tighten at the back of Dimitri’s neck, tugging on hair until his mouth fell open too, eager to greet the prince’s.

Tongues tangled and Hubert watched, enraptured. There was something more perverse, more _exhilarating_ , about watching Dedue and Dimitri express their love for one another without knowing he was there. If Hubert played his cards right, he would see this all again, in the comfort of his and Ferdinand’s shared room.

This was the appetizer before the main meal.

Dedue shifted upwards on his knees, moving a little higher and he huffed through his nose again, like an impatient animal. Dimitri had to tilt his head far back to keep the kiss going and Hubert could see their tongues skimming over one another, hot and wet, saliva pooling against Dimitri’s lower lip. His hands fell from Dedue’s trapezius, down his chest and under the hem of his torn shirt, ripped from sparring.

The prince’s hands were hungry, exploratory, _predatory_ , pushing up and under Dedue’s shirt to roam over his chest. Hubert himself was curious to know what the dark-skinned man’s body looked like. Broad, definitely. Hairy? Chiselled with muscle? Just a hint of fat? His cock stirred in his breeches just wondering.

Dedue was a large man. Tall, broad and strong, Hubert could not help but imagine how wonderful Ferdinand’s elegant, delicate and pale form would look writhing under Dedue’s bull-like body.

A dark hand darted out and gripped onto Dimitri’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. The kiss broke and saliva stretched between their lips, catching the moonlight until it finally snapped and dribbled down Dimitri’s pretty chin.

“Not here,” Dedue rasped.

“Your room then.” Dimitri retorted, eagerly tugging Dedue down to reclaim his lips in a messy kiss, murmuring against them. “My room is too far.”

Dedue snickered and shook his head, pulling back and groaning and he stood up straight, taking Dimitri’s hand in his and helping the prince up. A strong hand wandered down the length of Dimitri’s body, skimming down his side until it twisted around and Dedue took a handful of the prince’s ass in his thick palm.

Before the pair could spot him, Hubert had already slithered away, retreating to his room so that he could stir awake an initially grumpy but then very-interested Ferdinand.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Finding you alone has been an impossible task, Dedue.”

The Duscur man lifted his head to see, of all people, Hubert, striding towards him with his hands in his pockets and long black coat billowing behind him. It was strange for the mage to set foot in the training grounds, let alone the back shed used to house weapons… even stranger still to speak with _him._

Hubert’s lips quirked into a grin and Dedue’s eyes narrowed, slowing his scraping of the whetstone against a steel sword resting in his lap atop a single thigh, as thick as a tree’s trunk.

“Not impossible enough seeing as you have completed it,” he said calmly, voice level, eyes still watching as Hubert stepped closer.

The shed was dimly lit, only slivers of sunlight streaming in through the rickety slap-boards of wood holding the structure together. It had been badly battered and raided during the five years it had fallen into bandit’s hands and only half-repaired – but it did its job. Dedue sat atop a wooden crate, a bucket of water at his side with a pile of whetstones ready to be used. A blade rested in his lap and others sat in their stands behind him, awaiting their turn.

His sleeves had been rolled up and his fingers were wrinkled. He had already been here for some time.

“Where _is_ lord Dimitri?”

“He has been invited to tea with the professor. I allowed him the peace and came here to busy himself until he returned.”

Hubert hummed. “You and the prince Dimitri are seemingly joined at the hip. I would think you brothers if I did not know any better.”

Dedue said nothing and just watched as Hubert stood in the centre of the shed, surveying its dank surroundings. It smelled like hay and steel, like the earth and sun, something far too natural for Hubert to appreciate. Silence fell.

This might be more difficult than he thought. But Hubert was nothing if not determined and prepared.

“He has improved greatly since your return.”

Dedue’s eyes narrowed even further, almost into green slits, suspicion bleeding from his gaze. “You are not the first to tell me. Countless others have said.”

“Then my words have some truth to them, no?” A pause. “In all truth, he has improved tremendously. You should have seen the conditions he forced himself to live in before you arri—”

“Please,” Dedue said, interrupting the mage. “Do not tell me.”

“You would not want to know?”

Dedue sighed and his back hunched. He cast his gaze to the side, unable to look at Hubert. The tall man regarded him curiously.

“Hearing about how His Highness was before my return… fills me with guilt.”

Hubert scoffed, an automatic reaction. He quirked his eyebrow upwards and his lip curled. _“Guilt?”_

Dedue nodded. “Yes. I have heard from the professor, as well as Felix, Sylvain and Ingrid, who were once the closest people to him, about how His Highness was… how he used to be a shell of the man we once knew… how he was unpredictable, violent, and…” Dedue’s voice trailed off and he bit his own lip, finding it difficult to speak the words himself. He sighed. “He was a troubled young man and will remain as such until his dying day. I do not think that he will ever fully recover.”

Huber contemplated the other’s words for a moment. “Perhaps not.” Another pause. “But you have helped.”

Dedue’s gaze returned to Hubert, suspicious, until he shook his head and returned to drawing the whetstone in long strong stroked along the length of the blade, the hiss of metal against stone filling the air. “You are attempting to draw secrets about His Highness out of me.”

Hubert’s lip curled in contempt and he huffed in annoyance. He only wished he was as charismatic as Ferdinand in times as difficult as these.

“Please. I only wish to make conversation. I thought a suitable topic would be lord Dimitri.”

Dedue looked back up at Hubert through his lashes with a hard stare, distrust and cynicism etched across his strong dark features. “Conversation?”

“Yes, is it such a strange thing to do? To speak to one another?”

The bulwark said nothing. “For you, perhaps.”

Hubert groaned and drew his gloved hand up to his forehead, fingers shielding his eyes as he pressed into his own forehead. Goddess, why was he so _insufferably pathetic_ at being ‘friendly’? Years upon years of cultivating a menacing character did not erase itself in one night. Nor in weeks. Nor months. Nor years. He had been at the professor’s side -and thus, Dimitri’s side- for almost three years and still, others held a distrust towards him.

“Please. I am a changed man.”

“I see.” Dedue’s voice was steady but without conviction.

Hubert’s lips tightened and he closed his eyes to collect himself. “I have been aiding the professor, lord Dimitri and the others for years. I have been helping them destroy the very woman I had been raised to protect. I have…”

When Hubert reopened his eyes, he saw Dedue watching him expectantly. He had stopped sharpening the sword.

“I am no longer the man I once was.”

Still, Dedue regarded him with a watchful gaze. He said nothing, and then finally spoke. “You have… not been as cruel as I remember you to be.”

Hubert’s heart stung. “… how kind of you.”

“I have not seen you make any threatening gestures, nor frighten any of the ladies of the cathedral as of late either.”

Hubert’s hands tightened into fists inside his pockets, gloves tightening around his knuckles. “…how _perceptive_ of you.”

Dedue continued. “You _have_ been aiding the professor, I must admit. Our plans might not have succeeded without your help. And…” He hesitated. “You have been here longer than I have. Around His Highness. And no serious harm has befallen him.” A long pause filled the air where only chirruping birds hoped to fill the awkwardness. “For that… you have my thanks.”

Hubert’s ears pricked up. “Then may I have your trust too?”

A frown crossed Dedue’s face once again. _“Trust?_ I would not go so far as to grant that.”

_This was it. He had him._

Hubert bowed lowly before Dedue, one hand at his waist, the other folded neatly behind his back. “My apologies then, for disturbing you. I had a proposal I believed that we could discuss.”

“… a proposal?”

“Yes. It concerned lord Dimitri too.”

Dedue set the whetstone aside and replaced the steel sword back in its sheath, tying it back in its place in the weapon’s rack. He moved slowly and methodically and if Hubert did not know any better, he would guess that Dedue was working over his words in his mind.

“What is your proposal?”

Hubert grinned and couldn’t help the shiver of excitement wracking through his body, pooling his stomach hotly.

He had already discussed the plans with Dimitri earlier that morning, prior to breakfast, and the blushing prince had begrudgingly acquiesced. He was initially hesitant, regarding the approaching pair with a suspicious expression that matched Dedue’s current one. When Hubert reminded the prince of their shared passionate night, he demanded that they keep quiet, to never speak of it again, and to forget that it had ever happened.

And then Ferdinand had spoken so quietly that Dimitri had to fall silent and listen intently for those whispered words, shyly asking to meet once more. Hubert positively snickered when he saw the prince’s aghast expression, wild eyebrows twitching with disbelief and jaw slack. Ferdinand had hurriedly stammered out that _‘it was not important’_ and _‘a foolish request’_ before Hubert had interjected, calculatingly, of course, to suggest that Dedue join them.

Now that had been a move Dimitri was not expecting.

The prince’s face went completely lax with shock, before turning scarlet. He stammered out that such a suggestion was _‘utter nonsense’_ and that his current relationship with Dedue was _‘nothing more than platonic’._ Even Ferdinand had rolled his eyes at that. With a fluttering of his lashes, a little begging, some pleading, and some encouragement from Hubert, Dimitri eventually growled lowly in his throat and acquiesced, if not simply to get the pair to leave, face still scarlet.

Ferdinand thanked him profusely and Hubert regarded the prince from down his nose, almost sneering with satisfaction. He thanked the prince, reminded him of _‘how happy Ferdinand had been last time’_ and the cavalier bit down on his lower lip. Hubert could practically feel the anxious excitement radiating from the prince.

And now he had Dedue.

“I have already discussed this with lord Dimitri. He is more than happy to consent to our proposal.”

“Our?” Dedue questioned.

“Ferdinand and I. We are in a relationship after all.”

Dedue said nothing for a moment. “How is this relevant?”

Hubert smirked again and spoke slowly, commandingly. “You will be joining us in the bedroom. With your partner, Dimitri.”


End file.
